


untitled

by blondi



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8288479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondi/pseuds/blondi
Summary: Nothing about it sits quite right, not like it's supposed to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this a couple of years ago and it's one of the only things i've ever written that i didn't hate upon revisiting. so i decided to finally share it.... a bit late.

Pete is the best at being the world's worst insomniac. It's not a secret, and it never was. Maybe it wasn't so obvious at first, maybe it seemed so much more like a party thing than an actual issue, but it was always there. Pete wasn't having too much fun to sleep, he was too wound up to sleep. His mind was buzzing, not his body.  
Gabe, on the other hand, can sleep. It might not always be sound, and he was never good at being stationary. He might mindlessly get up at some random hour of the night to piss and stare blearily at his reflection in the mirror, but he can sleep.  
Still, something about it just isn't surprising when he cracks his eyes open at no later than three-thirty in the morning to just barely see Pete's outline, illuminated from the streetlight shining through the crack in the curtains, perched on the very edge of the mattress. The hotel room feels even more stuffy than it did when they'd first stepped into it, all vaguely uncomfortable furniture and a mattress that didn't feel just right.  
It feels even less right with Pete in a position very, very different from the one he'd passed out in.  
He's staring directly at Gabe, which might should feel a little more creepy than it does. Maybe it's the obvious shame in the way that he jerks his gaze away as soon as their eyes meet, or it's just the fact that this is /Pete/, but Gabe really isn't phased. He just stares for a long moment, lets out a heavy breath and reaches out across the sheets that have gone cold.  
"Th'fuck are you doin'?" It's slurred, raspy with sleep, and Gabe doesn't know why he expects Pete's voice to sound the same when he answers.  
"This isn't gonna last."  
The words are as clear as day, like Pete's been up for a while. Like he never even went to sleep at all, and he's somehow still wide awake right now. And their message, it shouldn't be fitting but somehow is. Nothing about it sits quite right, not like it's supposed to. Maybe that's because Gabe didn't think Pete would be perched on the edge of the bed and watching him like the guy from Twilight when he woke up.  
"What?"  
Pete has that look on his face, his eyebrows faintly furrowed and his eyes downcast and everything showcasing this very fragile sort of frustration, like he can't quite get everything right. It's a rare look, one that Gabe's seen no more than twice before, and he doesn't know if it's good or terrible that it's the one Pete's wearing right now.  
"This," he repeats, this time with a halfhearted flop of his hand. Gabe takes 'this' to mean the entire situation. "It's not gonna last."  
There's another moment of silence, but this time Gabe is the one searching for words. Pete says a lot of things that he doesn't know how to respond to, but this specific one is probably the most monumental yet. Even more so than when they'd discussed contracts, and that was saying a lot. He likes to think that he understands, that he gets what Pete's talking about and that he gets what's going on in his head and that he gets /him/, but he's no closer to knowing what to say. Pete... it's like he can't fully grasp the concept of being happy, and he can't accept it when he feels it. Gabe doesn't know if this is something big to him, if it's enough to bring Pete feelings that he doesn't think he deserves, but he hopes so, for the sake of it going both ways.  
"Well.." he starts finally. "It's ass-o-clock in the morning, I'm fuckin' cold, and you don't look comfortable. Do you really want this to last?"  
Pete cracks a smile, looking every bit like he's doing it despite himself, and the 'fucker' that he mumbles sounds fond enough to Gabe. Everything about the conversation, if it can even be called that, it's carrying so much more heavy of a weight than that and they both know it, but Gabe's never been particularly good at addressing things that he could just as easily brush off, and Pete's never been good at voicing what goes on in his head.  
It's not until he's closed the distance that he made between them, his legs twisted with Gabe's and his cold nose pushed against his collarbone, that Pete speaks again.  
"Yeah. Yeah, I do."


End file.
